


Sharing

by ikeracity



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Erik, Charles tries to fix him, Dubious Consent, Erik is emotionally crippled, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Top Charles, Trust Issues, and really messed up, emotional journeys, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt. </p><p>One night during the mutant road trip, Erik knocks on Charles's door and brusquely demands to be taken to bed. Charles, who has been very careful about staying out of Erik’s head, is disoriented by the haunted look in Erik’s eyes but is ultimately swayed by the fact that they’ve had this burgeoning tension between them since forever.</p><p>They then proceed to have The Saddest And Worst Sex Ever. Erik stalks off all humiliated and unhappy and Charles is confused until he works out that Erik was a virgin--at which point Charles feels equal parts guilty and furious that Erik's basically used him as an instrument of self-harm.</p><p>The next time it happens, Charles teaches Erik what it means to really make love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8700.html?thread=20978428#t20978428) prompt. Warnings for possible dubcon.

Charles opened his eyes to darkness. For a moment, he laid there in groggy confusion, wondering what had woken him. Then a shiver of unease traveled like a current down through his shoulders to his fingertips, and he sat up. 

“Erik?” He could feel the man’s mind hovering restlessly on the other side of the closed door that adjoined their rooms. The edges of Erik’s thoughts were blurred and rapid, too fast to catch without purposefully reaching in. But Charles had made a point to curb his telepathy sharply around Erik. It was an exercise in self-control as much as it was an attempt at making Erik feel more comfortable. God only knew how little Erik trusted other people, and Charles tried to make it easier for Erik as much as he could. If that meant forsaking some of the telepathic cues he relied on when interacting with others—well. Erik wasn’t exactly convivial himself, and he would forgive Charles for any social blunders, if he even noticed them. 

Now, it took an effort to keep still and wait for an answer, rather than delve into Erik’s mind. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long; within a minute, Erik knocked and said, “Let me in.” 

“It’s not locked,” Charles said, half-curious, half-disgruntled. It was—he checked his watch—two in the morning. What on earth could Erik possibly have to say that couldn’t wait until morning? 

The door swung open with more force than necessary, nearly slamming into the opposite wall. Charles flinched at the expression on Erik’s face—he looked exhausted and torn and determined all at once, his eyes dark in the shadows of the room, his fists clenched by his side. Anger and resolve and nervous energy poured off him in palpable waves, and Charles steadfastly sealed up his shields a little tighter, wanting as ever to make this effort for Erik, because if there was any man he would make an effort for, it would be this one. It was hard, though, facing the heated look in Erik’s eyes without any sort of reference or context behind it. He didn’t like walking into situations blind, especially when he was accustomed to being a couple of steps ahead. 

“I think,” Erik said at last through gritted teeth, “you should fuck me.” 

Charles gaped at him. Of all the things he had been expecting, this was most certainly not one of them. He had never imagined—oh, of course, he had _imagined,_ in the shower, in private, but not like this—not in real life. Had Erik just said—?

“Erik, what…” 

“It’s not complicated,” Erik said impatiently. He strode over to the bed, his normally smooth gait jerky with tension. “Fuck me. Or is that too vulgar for your delicate mouth?”

Charles stared at him in bewilderment. Where was this coming from? Surely if Erik really wanted to— _surely_ Charles would have picked up some hint by now. He had barely been able to tear his eyes away from Erik for this whole trip, and if Erik had noticed, he had never given any indication. Until now, that was, but this was all very sudden and moving very fast. Charles would have _known_ if Erik reciprocated any of his interest, even without his telepathy. Surely he would have. 

“Erik,” he began unsteadily, “I really don’t think—”

Erik climbed into the bed and kissed him hard. It was sloppy and a bit too rough, Erik’s tongue pressing almost instantly against Charles’s lips, open-mouthed and raw. Charles let out a startled gasp and fell back flailing into the sheets, Erik following in a messy tangle of limbs. He ended up on his back, Erik’s weight pressing him down into the mattress, nearly knocking the breath from him. Erik was still kissing him, one of his long-fingered hands cupping Charles’s cheek, the gentleness clashing with the force of his lips. He used too much teeth, and he couldn’t seem to figure out where to put his tongue, but even then, Charles could feel his body responding with interest. How many times had he imagined this? How many nights had he laid in bed staring at the ceiling wondering if tomorrow he would be able to work up the courage to tell Erik that he had been wanting to kiss him ever since they’d been dragged sopping wet from the ocean? And now here Erik was, licking a wet line along Charles’s jaw, and he could feel his cock jump. 

Erik felt it, too. His eyes were a flash of gray against the dark. “Now will you fuck me?”

His voice was too gruff and arousing to be real. “Oh God,” Charles groaned. “Come here.” 

They wiggled up to the pillows, and Charles rolled so that he was on top. He marveled at the way Erik gave beneath him. He was so used to seeing Erik as the leader, as the uncompromising dominant personality. It was a shock to see how easily he moved when Charles tugged, how quickly he obeyed when Charles told him to take off his shirt. Underneath, the skin of his chest was cut across with thin white scars, earned from years at war with the world. Erik hesitated, defensiveness clear in his eyes, but Charles leaned down and pressed his lips to the white lines, and slowly, he felt the muscles of Erik’s tense shoulders relax. He wanted to stop and examine each scar, to ask about them or at least try to puzzle out their history, but Erik pushed his hands away and said again, “Fuck me.” 

“Stop saying that, or I will,” Charles growled, and Erik glared at him. He could feel Erik’s thoughts thrumming just beneath the surface of his fingertips, the mental contact made stronger by the physical contact. It was tempting, oh so tempting, to peek. But he resolutely shut those thoughts away and focused on what he could see with his eyes, what he could feel with his hands. If they were going to do this, he was going to do this right, without prying. 

He sat up to strip off his own shirt, and by the time he was done, Erik had shucked off his pants and underwear. Charles could feel his cock throb at the sight of Erik’s long, lean body, spread out on display for him. Erik met his gaze impassively, unmoving.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Charles said admiringly, taking in the sloping line of Erik’s ribs and the narrow curve of his hip. And his cock—he was only half-hard, but he was already big. Charles licked his lips at the sight of it and moved over to straddle him, unable to keep his hands to himself for any longer. He splayed a hand against Erik’s ribs and shifted to sit lower, on his thighs so he could reach Erik’s cock. He touched it, just a gloss of fingers up its underside, and Erik was fully hard in an instant. He pushed his head back into the pillow and groaned aloud, and Charles grinned. He took Erik into his hand and stroked along his length, drawing another long moan that went straight to his groin. He could feel the ache of arousal heavy in his gut, pooling with the desire to sink into Erik’s warmth. Erik was so lean, so fit, and Charles had imagined it before, imagined pushing into the tight heat of Erik’s body and riding them both into incoherency. 

As if he was thinking the same, Erik thrust his hips up slightly, nearly bucking Charles off. “Come on. Fuck me.” 

“So impatient,” Charles grumbled, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of just pushing Erik into the bed and sliding into him. He liked rough sex from time to time, and Erik looked as if he would give as good as he got. Undoubtedly, Charles would pay for any carelessness later—perhaps Erik might even fuck _him,_ and the thought had him achingly hard. He fumbled with the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms for a long moment and then shoved his pants and underwear down and away. His cock was already hanging heavy between his legs, pressing against Erik’s thigh as he straddled him. A bead of pre-come smeared against Erik’s skin, and Charles scooted back and leaned down to lick it away. The muscles of Erik’s leg twitched at the contact, and he hissed out slowly through his teeth. 

“Do it,” he said. 

Charles frowned as he leaned over between Erik’s legs. “Hold on. Wait.” He took Erik’s cock in hand and bent over to lick its tip. Erik let out a startled gasp that turned into a full groan when Charles took half his length into his mouth. Charles licked the underside of his cock and pushed down a little farther, as deep as was comfortable. Erik let out a little whine above him, and Charles almost grinned. He stroked the base of Erik’s cock as his mouth worked the tip. Slow, he thought. Then faster later, when Erik was closer to the edge, when he had Erik coming apart—

 _“Charles!”_

Erik’s hips jerked underneath him, and heat flooded his mouth, catching him so off-guard that he nearly choked. Startled, he let Erik’s cock slip free, come spilling from his lips onto Erik’s legs and the bedspread. 

_“Gott,”_ Erik whispered, sounding absolutely gutted. 

Charles swallowed the taste of come and wiped his chin on the back of his hand. “I wasn’t—expecting that.” 

Erik fixed him with a piercing look. “What?”

“That—it was— _fast.”_ At Erik’s blank look, he sighed and said, “Nothing, it was fine, it was good. We should—”

He made to climb off, but Erik yanked him down, hands hot against his hips. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“No,” Charles tried to protest. “Not tonight. I don’t want—”

“You don’t _want?”_ Erik echoed, his tone harsh. He reached out and grabbed Charles’s erection in his hand. His touch was heavy and rough, and Charles shuddered, pleasure and desire tingling at the base of his spine. The dry slide of Erik’s palm was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the heat that shot through him when Erik spread his legs, nudging Charles between them. 

He couldn’t hold back. Not when Erik looked so _willing._ “Wait,” he panted. “We need lube, something—”

“Come on,” Erik said impatiently. “It’s not difficult, Charles. Just put your cock in me.” 

The _words_ coming out of Erik’s mouth. These were Charles’s fantasies playing out in real life, but he didn’t want to hurt Erik. He looked around, but the hotel room was empty of anything that might serve as lubrication. His mind wasn’t functioning quite properly with Erik’s hand stroking his cock, pre-come slicking his way. The pleasure was beginning to build, and he wanted to push into that heat, he wanted to come in Erik and feel the tight, hot clench around him. 

“Lotion,” he tried. He thought he’d seen some in the bathroom, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t think he’d be able to wait. 

“Charles,” Erik said, sounding almost angry now. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then get the hell off. Otherwise—” He gave Charles’s cock a hard jerk, and Charles nearly came right there. 

“Okay,” he gasped, “okay.” He spat into his hand and slipped a finger up between Erik’s legs. Erik was unbearably tight at his touch, tensing every muscle in his body as Charles reached his hole. “Relax,” he said, putting his free hand against Erik’s thigh. “Relax.” 

Slowly, Erik did, and Charles managed to slip first one finger in, then two. He worked Erik steadily open, easing in a third finger. Before long, Erik was rolling his hips, saying, “Now. Now.” 

“Are you always this impatient in bed?” Charles muttered, though he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. He stretched Erik a little wider and then lined himself up. Then he hesitated. “Are you sure? It could hurt—”

“Oh, fuck you,” Erik snarled, shoving back so that Charles’s cock slid against the crack of his ass. Charles groaned and steadied Erik with a hand on his hip. Then he pushed the tip of his cock past the tight ring of muscle, stopping an inch in. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

In reply, Erik hauled him forward, burying Charles’s cock deep in him. Both of them groaned aloud, and Charles caught himself on his arms on either side of Erik’s shoulders, trembling with the hot pleasure that flashed through him. Erik was unbelievably tight and hot, and Charles had never felt so full; every look, every touch, every moment in the past three weeks was culminating in this, and it was beautiful, it was perfect, it was breathtaking. He rocked his hips and groaned at the way Erik’s entire body clenched around him. He set a slow pace at first and then sped up, unable to maintain his rhythm with Erik clamping down so hard on him, sending flares of pleasure up his spine. He could feel himself getting rough, fingers digging into Erik’s skin hard enough to bruise, but Erik didn’t make a sound of protest. He probably liked it like this, Charles thought, and then he didn’t think at all as Erik wriggled around him, shifting enough to give Charles a new angle that drove him deeper. He lost his control entirely and thrust hard into Erik with harsh snaps of his hips, heat coiling deep in his gut, tightening his balls with every burst of brilliant pleasure. Then he felt himself tumbling helplessly over the edge, spilling hard into Erik, his cock twitching as it spent itself. He moaned aloud at the sharp pleasure and release and all but collapsed onto Erik’s heaving chest. 

“Oh God,” he said when he’d recovered enough of his breath to speak. “That was…” Good. Amazing. As fantastic as he’d imagined. 

Erik didn’t say anything. When Charles looked up, he was horrified to see that Erik’s eyes were wet and there was a tear trickling down the left side of his face. 

“Oh my God,” he said. “Did I hurt you? My God, Erik, what—” 

He tried to pull out as gently as he could, but he didn’t miss the clench of Erik’s jaw, or the way his breath hitched in pain. 

“I hurt you,” Charles breathed. He rolled off Erik immediately, his hands hovering, trying to figure out where to touch, how to fix what had gone wrong. “Where are you—do you need—” He automatically tried to reach out with his telepathy and then jerked back—no, Erik needed his privacy, that was the whole _point_ of this. But Erik wasn’t speaking, Erik wasn’t doing much of anything but staring stolidly at the ceiling, and Charles had to _know_ if he’d hurt him—

“I’m fine,” Erik said, his tone very even. Too even. He sat up and then slid off the side of the bed. The pain that tightened the lines around his eyes was unmistakable. He bent over to pick up his clothes and stepped toward the door. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Charles demanded, torn between bafflement and anger. Something had gone terribly wrong, and he’d be damned if he’d let it go. “If I—if I hurt you, we need to deal with it. Treat it or something.”

“I’m leaving,” Erik said stiffly, turning his back on Charles. 

“Erik, _wait!”_ Charles scrambled off the bed, but he’d only made it halfway across the room before Erik disappeared back into his room and shut the door. The click of the lock on the door was audible, but Charles tried to open it anyway. The knob didn’t even budge under his hands, and he knew Erik was holding the door shut with his powers. But _why?_

“Erik, please,” he said, feeling helpless and annoyed and desperately confused. He’d thought Erik had wanted this. That was why Erik had come to him, why Erik had asked for Charles to fuck him. But that look on Erik’s face afterwards had spoken of anything but enjoyment. It had been filled with hurt and muted anger and frustration, and Charles was afraid he’d ruined something he wouldn’t be able to make right. 

God, why hadn’t he _stopped?_

He thought about reaching out with his mind. For a long few minutes, he hovered on the edge of Erik’s consciousness, too far to touch but close enough to track his movements around the room. Erik was in the bathroom. He stayed there for a long while before switching off the light and returning to his bed. It took everything Charles had to keep from dipping into Erik’s mind to find the answers the man wouldn’t voice aloud. He fought the temptation, fought the fierce curiosity and the yearning to understand, to know why Erik had come to his bed tonight when in retrospect he so clearly hadn’t wanted to. Instead of prying, he turned and forced himself to return to his own bed. The sheets were soiled and rumpled. He didn’t sleep again all night.

*

In the morning, Erik was limping.

He tried to hide it—of course he did, the stubborn idiot—but there was no mistaking the way his stride was a little shorter than usual, or the way he moved carefully, as if he were trying to keep from jarring something loose. Charles watched him openly, not even bothering to hide his concern. They were going to do quite a bit of walking today, and if Erik wasn’t up for that, then maybe Charles could go alone. 

When he tried to broach the topic though, his words were met with a sour glare and a curt silence. Evidently, they weren’t speaking about what had happened last night, though Charles was burning with questions. He wanted so badly to _understand._ He had, at times, indulged in a few fantasies (more than a few, if he were being honest) of his first time with Erik, and last night had very _clearly_ not been it. He hadn’t imagined a scenario where Erik had looked as if Charles had utterly broken him—in a _bad_ way—and then fled. He couldn’t fathom why Erik had asked for it if he hadn’t wanted it. No one in the world could force a man like Erik to do something he didn’t want to, but Erik had knocked on his door and laid himself out for Charles, had endured the pain, but _why?_

He had a thousand questions, but apparently Erik was determined to pretend that last night hadn’t happened. He stalked to the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and pointedly avoided Charles’s gaze. 

Not reaching for Erik’s mind was an exercise in a level of self-control Charles hadn’t even known he had. He was used to fishing for answers, to finding truths quicker than people could articulate them. Most of the time, his ability made it so much easier to converse; he knew what people wanted him to say, and he said it. But Erik’s mind was closed to him, which frustrated and worried him in equal turns. If only Erik weren’t so private, if only Erik weren’t so guarded, they could fix this like the adults they were. They could talk—or Erik could _think_ what he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit aloud, and Charles would just know. He would understand. But Erik was silent, and Charles was determined not to break his promise now, not when he had apparently broken everything else. When Erik wanted to talk, then Charles would oblige him. Until then, he had to wait. 

The wait was torture. Erik could ignore Charles’s anxious glances all he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that last night _had_ happened. The evidence was all there: Erik was walking with a painful hitch in his step, and he refused to look Charles straight in the eye. The longer the silence persisted, the larger the pit of uneasiness in Charles’s gut grew. He slouched a bit in the passenger seat and watched Erik out of the corner of his eye, trying to puzzle answers out of Erik’s expression and failing. The man had an expression that could have been carved from stone, and Charles had never been much good at reading facial cues anyway, relying so much as he did on his telepathy. Disgruntled, he turned his gaze away from Erik and toward the road. Perhaps it was time he stopped leaning so heavily on his telepathy for everything; it was putting him at a distinct disadvantage in situations like these. 

What the hell had happened? He reviewed the events of the previous night over in his mind, starting from waking up and moving all the way through to when Erik had gotten up and left so abruptly. Erik had come in. Erik had told Charles in no uncertain terms that he’d like to have sex. They’d had sex. Erik had so clearly not liked it, and yet he’d said nothing. He’d disappeared back into his room to—what? To lick his wounds? To flee from the fact that he hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been ready at all? 

Several things clicked together at once with horrible clarity. Erik had kissed him like a fumbling schoolboy, like he hadn’t known exactly how. Erik had come so quickly, so messily, barely able to control himself, which was peculiar for a man who prided himself on excellent self-restraint. Erik had told Charles to fuck him, without lube, without any prep whatsoever, and in retrospect, maybe it hadn’t been because Erik liked it rough, maybe it had been because Erik didn’t know they _needed_ any prep to make it hurt less, and _oh God,_ did that mean—

Charles swore aloud, causing Erik to glance over at him at last. 

Charles swore again, but in the next moment, they were pulling into their destination, and there was nothing to do but get out and meet with the soft-faced woman who was sitting alone at the café, absently reheating her coffee through bursts of warmth through her fingers, though no one knew it. She was very polite, less surprised than Charles thought she’d be, and interested in their mutations as well. But she was living a comfortable life here, and the little warm currents she could produce with her hands wouldn’t be a significant addition to their team. So they bade her goodbye and then headed back to the hotel to regroup and think out their next step. 

When Erik stepped into his room, Charles followed on his heels instead of going to his own. Erik stopped in surprise and regarded him warily. He wasn’t sitting—he hadn’t been sitting comfortably the whole morning. Charles had noticed. It made him feel a little sick and a lot angry. 

“We need to talk,” he said. 

Erik watched him, impassive. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

_“Nothing to_ —Erik, we had _sex_ last night!” 

“I’m aware.” 

“You didn’t _want_ to have sex last night,” Charles continued, and Erik’s eyes widened. 

“Yes, I did,” he said, and Charles heard the lie without even having to try. 

“Don’t tell me that,” Charles said crossly, beginning to pace. “I hurt you, don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been limping around all day, you’ve hardly spoken a word, and you’re… _off.”_

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Off?”

“Yes, _off.”_ They hadn’t exchanged more than two sentences all day. It grated on Charles, the sudden loss of the familiar, constant stream of conversation. The best thing about Erik was that he let Charles ramble on and on about nothing at all and never tried to shut him up. It was almost as if he liked listening to Charles talk—or that was what Charles hoped—but today, Charles been too preoccupied to say much of anything, and Erik hadn’t volunteered so much as a _good morning_. 

“Last night doesn’t have to change anything,” Erik said flatly. 

Charles nearly threw up his hands in frustration. Couldn’t Erik see that it had already changed everything? The mere fact that Erik was standing a good ten feet away from him and facing the wall instead of Charles was indicative of that. 

And besides, their changing… _relationship_ …wasn’t even what Charles was most concerned about. 

“Erik,” he began, moderating his tone so that it came out more calm than nervous, “last night…” How could he put this delicately? “…was that your first time?” 

Erik stiffened, and that was all the answer Charles needed. He fought down another curse. Suddenly, he was furious, at himself or at Erik, he wasn’t sure. Erik had been a virgin. Charles had _taken his virginity_ , and he’d practically maimed Erik in the process. God, he should have _stopped._

“Does it matter?” Erik said finally, turned away from Charles so that all that was visible was the tense line of his shoulders. “Didn’t you like it?”

Charles struggled to rein in the urge to lash out. “It doesn’t matter if I _liked it_ or not.”

“You liked it then.” 

“No, Erik, I didn’t like it!” He tried not to shout, but it was nearly impossible to keep calm when Erik was acting so damnably unflappable when he should have been shaken, at the very least. He’d lost his virginity last night, and it hadn’t been gentle by any stretch of the word—and yet Erik was standing here stoically as if nothing had happened, as if what they’d done had been _normal._

At last, Erik tilted his head in Charles’s direction. He looked momentarily confused. “You didn’t?”

“How could I have _liked_ it?” Charles demanded. “I _hurt_ you!” 

“The pain was nothing,” Erik said dismissively, waving the matter away with his hand. “I expected it.” 

He’d _expected_ it? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? 

“Why,” Charles asked, his voice miraculously steady, “in God’s name did you come to my room last night and ask me to fuck you if you knew you weren’t ready in the slightest and that you wouldn’t enjoy the least bit of it?”

Erik shrugged. “It wasn’t about enjoyment.” 

“Then what _was_ it abo—” 

Charles froze. _I expected it,_ Erik had said. _It wasn’t about enjoyment._ “Don’t tell me you did this _for_ the pain,” Charles snapped, furious again. “Is that why? You’ve been living with pain for so long that you don’t know how to function without it anymore, and you—you— _what_ —you _used_ me to get what you needed? Was that it?” His stomach turned at the thought. “You used me to hurt yourself—good _God,_ Erik!” 

Erik whirled, his expression wide and thunderous. The look he shot Charles was scathing, and for a second, Charles felt the watch around his wrist constrict, metal biting sharply into his skin. Then, as abruptly as the pressure had come, it released, and Erik said, “Get out.” 

It seemed like something he’d said had hit the mark, and now Erik was going to throw him out without so much as an explanation, or an apology? Incensed, Charles said, “Erik—”

_“Get out.”_

Erik’s mind was a seething mass of rage and chaos, so sharply defined that Charles could feel it behind his shields. Erik was on the brink of hurling things, or destroying anything close at hand, and anyone with any sense would retreat. Charles wasn’t afraid; he knew how to handle himself. But he felt tired suddenly, weary in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion. He didn’t want to fight Erik. Not about this and not about anything else. He wanted to curl up in his bed and draw the covers over his head and try his hardest to pretend that last night had been some cruel dream. 

He turned silently and left through the adjoining door. The weight of Erik’s heated gaze followed him the entire way.

*

He wasn’t asleep when the door opened later that night. He had felt Erik’s mind stirring restlessly in the other room for hours, and now he felt it slipping through the door in silence. It was aweing, the stealth with which he moved. Erik hardly made a noise when he walked, a force of habit cultivated by years of vigilant paranoia. If Charles hadn’t been tracking his mind, he would never have heard a thing.

Erik stood in the doorway for a long moment. Then he moved toward the bed. Charles laid there in silence, his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Maybe if he feigned sleep, Erik would go away. Maybe in the morning, everything would make more sense—the night before, their confrontation, Erik’s fury. Until then, he didn’t want to face Erik. He didn’t want—

Gentle fingers touched his cheek, and Charles couldn’t stop his eyes from snapping open. For a long moment, they stared at each other in the darkness, Erik’s fingers trailing a soft line down the edge of Charles’s jaw. Then Erik sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss him. 

Charles shoved him back. “Erik, _don’t.”_

“Why?” The word was a breathy exhalation, blowing hot in Charles’s ear. “You want this. I know you do. You… _look_ at me, all the time, and I know you want—I’m not blind—” 

_“Stop.”_ He sat up and shifted away, but Erik followed him, determination bright in his mind. 

“You want this,” he growled, putting his hand on Charles’s thigh. He rubbed up, up toward Charles’s groin, and god _damn_ it, Charles could feel his body responding to the touch, blood rushing south. He had fucked Erik last night, he tried to remind himself; he had practically _raped_ him because Erik hadn’t wanted it at all. But the guilt wasn’t enough to dampen the slap of arousal, and he felt a surge of shame at his lack of control. The growing tent in his pajama pants couldn’t be disguised. 

But he could stop it here, and he would. Slapping Erik’s hand away, he said as firmly as he could manage, “Erik, I don’t. I don’t want this. I’ve no idea what’s possessed you these past couple of nights, but I think you’ve made a mistake.” 

Erik stilled. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “You don’t want me?”

 _“No,”_ Charles replied, relieved. Finally, it seemed as if Erik were hearing him. “I don’t want you.” 

A dozen emotions raced across Erik’s face—anger, fear, confusion, hurt—and the last one washed from his mind like a wave, and Charles heard, _wrong so wrong thought he wanted it thought he liked it wasn’t good enough for him was it I wasn’t good enough_

Oh no. Oh that was not what he had meant _at all._

Erik retreated rapidly across the bed, stepping off the edge and whipping around, his face flushing with a heat of shame. Charles scrambled after him, catching his sleeve. “No—wait, that isn’t what I meant—”

“I don’t need your _pity,”_ Erik snarled, shaking him off. 

“Erik, you don’t understand. Of _course_ I want you. How could I _not_ want you?”

“I’m not stupid, Charles! I heard what you just said!” 

“No, that’s not—you’re misunderstanding me.” 

“You said that already,” Erik snapped. He strode for the door, and Charles leaped up behind him, grabbing his arm to pull him back. Instead of resisting, Erik turned into the motion and shoved hard, sending Charles staggering back, tumbling backwards into the bed when his knees hit the side. For a second, Erik stood there, his cheeks flushed, his eyes brimming with hard rage and—god, his face was impossible to read, and Charles couldn’t stop himself from reaching out with his mind. Two days ago, they had been fine, and now Erik was looking at him like Charles had knocked out all the support from under him, and Charles _didn’t understand._

_fucking stupid shouldn’t have trusted knew it wasn’t real knew it couldn’t be true but hoped anyway and thought he would want—but he doesn’t should’ve known better Scheiβe stupid stupid_

The desperate anger in Erik’s mind was enough to squeeze the breath from Charles’s lungs, and he pulled back with an effort, aghast and scared and brokenhearted. Those were Erik’s emotions, not his, but for a brief handful of seconds, he couldn’t find the line between what was _Charles_ and what was _Erik._ By the time he had regained a full sense of his own identity, Erik was regarding him with a look of furious betrayal. 

“You read my mind, didn’t you?” he spat. He clenched his fists and the lights flickered on, then off again. “You read my mind, fucking _telepath—”_

“Erik, stop,” Charles said, more bewildered after the barrage of Erik’s thoughts than before. “Please, I just—I don’t know what you want from me.” 

_“Nothing.”_

“We both know that’s not true.” Charles stood up again and met Erik’s glare without flinching. “You came to my room last night for a reason, and you came tonight. Tell me why, Erik.” 

He stepped closer. Funny, how brave he felt then, facing a man who could crush him with a flick of his fingers. He had never been the brave one—that had been Raven. She was fearless, and he was cautious. But he didn’t feel cautious then, only confused. Erik watched him but didn’t retreat as Charles advanced. He stopped within arm’s reach and looked up, trying to puzzle out the meaning behind Erik’s flat stare. Erik’s mind was a maelstrom of conflicted thoughts, nearly indecipherable at a glance, and Charles forced himself not to look. He only gazed straight into Erik’s eyes, waiting, praying for an explanation and not a dismissal. 

Erik’s jaw unclenched, and defeat settled over the lines of his face. “Just look,” he said hoarsely. 

Charles frowned. “No. You tell me.” 

“I can’t—” He paced back a step and dropped his gaze, agitation clear in every line of his body. “I don’t… _know_ how to…say what…”

“All right,” Charles said gently. “All right.” 

He put his fingers to his temple, closed his eyes, and—

_nervous tension how to invite him in to show him the truth what is the truth no understanding can’t comprehend_

_Erik, shh. It’s all right. Calm your mind. You don’t have to worry about helping me; just think what you want me to know, and I’ll sort it out._

_oh strange the feeling of a presence inside just as strange as the first time but this time control this time focus **focus**_

Erik’s mental voice pushed out uncertainly from the jumble of unedited thoughts. _Charles?_

 _Yes, I hear you._ A beat of silence. _Do you want to show me yourself, or do you want me to look?_

_Just…look._

_All right. If you’re certain._

_Yes._

Charles shifted around the roiling mental landscape and felt a throbbing mass of _indecision-doubt-fear-need_ near the surface of Erik’s mind, hovering so close because Erik was always thinking of it. After a brief hesitation—long enough for Erik to stop him—he plunged in. 

_Charles watches him. He can feel it, all the way down to his bones. He knows what Charles wants. He knows what sex is, and he knows that there are men who like it with other men. Punishable thoughts—he’s seen the effects in the concentration camps, seen the pink triangles and shuddered. He tries to banish the idea from his mind and hopes Charles hasn’t read anything. Hopes that these thoughts don’t mean anything._

_But Charles doesn’t stop watching him. He feels that dark blue gaze on his back, on his shoulders, everywhere he walks, every time he turns. He wants to be irritated, wants to whirl around and snap at Charles to **stop looking at him like that,** mein Gott, but instead, some terrible, twisted part of him revels in the attention, likes the way Charles’s eyes are constantly tracking his movements, as if Erik is someone to be valued, as if he is afraid that Erik will disappear if he looks away for too long. He has never felt necessary before, has never paid any heed to what anyone else thought of him because he has always been alone. But, as Charles so often enjoys to remind him, he isn’t alone anymore. The thought is vaguely terrifying. _

_He starts to watch Charles back, at first to retaliate for Charles’s constant, bold scrutiny. It’s petulant, but Erik doesn’t care. Maybe Charles will realize how uncomfortable being stared at can be, and he’ll drop the habit. But he doesn’t even seem to notice Erik staring back, and then Erik finds he can’t tear his eyes away for very long, drawn to the curve of Charles’s jaw, to the sight of white teeth worrying at red lips, to the tiny furrow that appears between Charles’s eyes when he concentrates._

_Erik has never been…attracted to anyone like this before. He has had his needs, but he’s always taken care of himself. Too much risk to seek out a partner. But Charles is—Charles is different. Erik doesn’t know how or why, but Charles is **Charles** and that changes everything. He wants to please Charles. He wants to make Charles smile, wants to give him what he needs. And Charles wants it, there’s no denying that, no denying the way Charles’s gaze strays down to Erik’s ass when Erik walks or bends over, no denying the light flush to Charles’s cheeks when Erik emerges shirtless out of the shower. _

_Erik has never cared about anyone since his mother, but he cares about Charles. He can admit to that. But he does not know if Charles feels the same. He isn’t stupid; he knows the difference between love and lust. He does not know enough about sex to lust after Charles, but he knows enough to know that Charles lusts after him. He does not know how else to prove his feelings to Charles, and so he must do it, he must give Charles what he wants. He does not know what else to do._

_Counting breaths. Charles’s bedroom. Charles, bright eyes, eager touches. Pain. Gott im Himmel, he hadn’t known anything could hurt like this, but he bites his lip against the agony because he knows pain, knows how to push it down somewhere deep inside him so that he can breathe, just breathe until Charles is done, until Charles is satisfied. But he can’t stop his body’s automatic response, can’t stop the tears in his eyes when Charles pulls out, and then Charles is staring at him in horror, and no, he can do better than this, it’s just that this was his first time, and Gott, Charles, let me try again, I can do better—_

_Then Charles is confronting him, demanding if it were his first time, and Erik feels a cold shock of disappointment down his spine because Charles hadn’t liked it, though Erik had tried his best, and if Charles hadn’t liked that, Erik doesn’t know what else he can offer. He has nothing but his body to give, and Charles clearly expects so much more than that, so much more than Erik can provide. Then he is shouting at Erik about pain, about Erik seeking pain because that is all he has known, and Gott, Charles is so **wrong** it makes Erik furious. Charles has no right to say any of that, he doesn’t know nearly enough of Erik’s life to judge Erik’s actions. And he’s furious at himself because he couldn’t get it right, because Charles still doesn’t understand what Erik feels, what Erik wants. Failure is a bitterly unfamiliar taste on his tongue, and he wishes he were the telepath, to be able to wipe the memory of his fumbling first attempt away, to recover as much dignity as he can over this stupid, stupid mistake. _

_He lies in bed for hours afterward, feeling the curve of Charles’s watch heat against his skin in the next room over. Thinks of the way Charles had breathed into the curve of his neck, the way Charles had moaned, soft and obscene and sweet, and he thinks determinedly, I can do that again. If that is what he wants, the pain is nothing._

_So he gets up and he walks over to the door and goes in and sits down by the bed and kisses Charles and tells himself that he will try harder this time and Charles will like it better—_

Charles wrenched himself out of the memory with a harsh gasp and stumbled back, disengaging his mind from Erik’s entirely. For an interminable moment, he could only stand there and breathe, too shocked and overwhelmed to speak. 

Finally, Erik said, “Did you see?”

“Yes,” he said hoarsely, amazed he could still form words after the onslaught of _that_. “I saw.” 

Erik’s expression shuttered. “Then you know why. I thought I could…I meant to…” 

“Erik, I…” Where did he even _begin?_ “I _do_ feel the same way, about you. I don’t know how you’d think otherwise. I’ve not exactly been subtle—”

It was the wrong thing to start with, because Erik surged forward, grabbed Charles’s face between his hands, and kissed him hard. Too hard. He was trying to use his tongue again, but it was sloppy and forced, like he was imitating something he’d seen once but didn’t quite understand how to make it work. It reminded Charles sharply that Erik was inexperienced and _not ready,_ and with a supreme effort, he pulled back, though every physical impulse in him strained to fall into the contact, to touch Erik and to let Erik touch him. 

“No, Erik, wait,” he panted when Erik tried to close the distance between them again. 

Erik’s brow furrowed in mystification. “Why? I want to do this for you.” He started forward again, and Charles backed away, which was a mistake because he hit the back of the bed and toppled over for the second time in the last ten minutes, giving Erik all the space he needed to clamber onto Charles and kiss him silly. Erik’s teeth clacked jarringly against Charles’s, and he was stronger than Charles was; he pinned Charles down with his hands, his legs, his hips, and his thoughts were a fervent torrent of _I can do this I can do this_

Charles tried to speak, but his words were muffled in Erik’s clumsy attempts at a kiss. Frustrated and trying desperately not to be aroused, he said, _Erik, stop, please,_ and then whined when Erik’s questing hand brushed the crotch of his pants. 

“Why?” Erik asked. He was mouthing at Charles’s jaw now, and someone so inexperienced shouldn’t be so _good_ at this, but it appeared that Erik was a devastatingly quick learner. He heard the little hitches in Charles’s breath and went in mercilessly, pulling Charles apart onto a thin thread and driving all rational protest from his mind.

“You want this,” Erik said, a bit roughly. “So take it.” 

“That’s not—” Charles swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut when Erik kissed the edge of his collarbone. _Come on, Charles. Control. Breathe._ “That’s not the way this works, Erik.” 

“Shut up, Charles.”

“No, Erik, _stop._ You’re not ready for this.” 

Erik paused, his mouth hovering over the skin of Charles’s throat, his fingers drawing tantalizing lines near the waistband of Charles’s pants. “I was ready last night.” 

Charles flushed in anger at the memory. “The hell you were. I _hurt_ you—”

“And I already said,” Erik interrupted, “the pain is nothing.” He laughed humorlessly, warm breath raising goosebumps on Charles’s flesh. “I know pain. Don’t forget that.”

His mind said, _I’m not weak I can handle it stronger than you think_

“It’s not _about_ being strong or weak,” Charles growled in response, barely registering that he was plucking the thought from Erik’s mind. 

Erik noticed immediately. He froze in place, a complicated array of emotions twisting across his face. It seemed like an eternity before he lifted his eyes to Charles’s and said, “If…if that’s what you want, too, take it.” 

It took Charles a long moment to process what he meant. When he did, he slammed his shields up, cutting off all contact. “No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not going to read your mind just because _I_ want to. You don’t _give me_ things, Erik. I don’t _take._ We share. _That’s_ how something like this works.”

Erik stared at him blankly. Then he nodded. “All right.” He touched Charles tentatively through his pants, just a light brush of fingers but it was enough to draw a constricted groan out of Charles’s tight throat. “Will you fuck me now?”

Erik _really_ needed to stop saying things like that. Charles focused on breathing through his nose. “Why are you doing this?”

Confusion flitted across Erik’s expression. “Because you want to.” 

Charles groaned. _“What_ did I just say?” He nudged Erik in the side with his knee to get him to shift away and then sat up. “We’re not doing this.” 

Erik made a frustrated noise behind him, and Charles felt his watch constrict and yank him down. Suddenly, he was flat on his back again, his watch pinning his left hand down above his head. Erik rolled over to straddle him, pressing his ass against Charles’s groin. Charles couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up automatically, seeking friction. 

“See?” Erik’s smile was feral. “You want it.” He leaned down and kissed Charles’s ear. “You don’t have to hold back. I’ll give you whatever you want. Don’t worry about hurting me.” He bent lower to tug at Charles’s shirt. “I can take it. I know…I know it’s supposed to hurt, but don’t think I can’t take it.” 

Charles stared at him, wide-eyed. “You know it’s supposed to hurt?”

Erik looked down at him, clearly puzzled. “Yes.”

“Who the hell told you that?” Charles demanded. He was blindsided by a sudden, horrible image of Schmidt whispering honeyed lies in Erik’s ear, and thought he might be sick. 

But Erik only shrugged and said, “I’ve heard stories. In the camps. Later, in bars. These things stick to you when you’re a boy. It’s the…the…one who fucks…”

“The top,” Charles supplied, wondering where this was going. 

“Yes. The top. It’s the top who…enjoys it,” Erik said. “That makes me the…bottom, I suppose…which means I should make you feel good. And I can.” He kissed Charles quickly, shyly. “I will.” 

“Erik…” Charles took a slow, steady inhalation. “Let me up.” 

_“No._ I know—last night was—wasn’t good, but I can do it. I can.” 

Erik pushed down on Charles determinedly, steely strength in his eyes, a harsh clench to his jaw. He was forcing himself to do this. He was going to hurt himself because he thought Charles wanted him to, because he thought he _had_ to, and that made Charles suddenly, implacably _furious._

“You want this?” he snarled. He shoved up, twisting his hips so that Erik fell to the side. Then he rolled on top of him, ignoring the painful twist of his shoulder since his wrist was still pinned to the bedspread. “Why the _hell_ would you hurt yourself for someone else?”

“Everything hurts,” Erik panted, his eyes bright. “Everything comes with a price. I don’t care.” 

Rage coursed through him. He hated Shaw for teaching Erik that pain was inevitable, and he hated Erik for believing it. “How could you think that?” he ground out, glaring down. Their faces were so close that he would only need to dip his head for their lips to touch, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he fisted his hands into the bedspread on either side of Erik’s head and steadfastly ignored the tent in his pants. 

“Because it’s true,” Erik said. He looked up at Charles, his eyes searching. “Are you going to fuck me now?” 

There it was, one time too many. Charles felt his already brittle self-control snap in half, and he kissed Erik hard. Erik was quick to respond, arching up to touch, his tongue flickering out, his teeth dragging sharply across Charles’s lower lip. Too much, too rough, and Charles pushed back, not opening his lips at all, just pressing a firm, chaste kiss onto the side of Erik’s open mouth. 

He was going to do it right this time, he thought fiercely. Erik thought that everything came with its share of pain. Charles was going to prove him wrong.

He slowed the kiss, letting it turn deep and soft. Erik’s movements stilled beneath him, confusion seeping from his mind. He didn’t understand gentleness, didn’t know how to reciprocate. After a moment, he tried to press back, open-mouthed again, but Charles leaned back and said sternly, “Don’t move.” 

Erik blinked, then nodded. Charles kissed him again and then moved his lips to Erik’s cheek, his jaw, his neck. Erik shivered when Charles licked under his chin, tongue scraping against rough stubble. He touched his lips to the side of Erik’s Adam’s apple and ignored the way Erik tensed underneath him, every muscle in his body going rigid. 

“Don’t move,” Charles whispered again as he trailed lower to nibble on Erik’s clavicle. He liked the open collar of Erik’s nightshirt; it gave him easier access to more skin, though the usual turtleneck had its appeals as well. Just not now, when Charles wanted to touch, when he wanted to feel everything. 

He scraped his teeth over Erik’s raised collarbone and then straightened. His left arm didn’t straighten with the rest of him, and he gave it a baleful look. “Let me go?” 

His watch loosened, and then his hand snapped free. Grinning, he hooked his fingers under the hem of Erik’s shirt and said, “Sit up a bit.” 

Erik complied, and Charles delighted in the way he could feel the tight muscles of Erik’s abdomen contract as he rose. Erik reached down to haul his shirt over his head, as he had the first time they’d done this. But Charles caught his hands and pushed them away. He rucked the shirt up slowly, glorying in the slow revelation of flesh as he went. He stopped to examine a scar by Erik’s hip, then another across his ribs. White, faded scars, long healed but probably never forgotten. He wondered how Erik had gotten them. He wondered if Erik would tell him if he asked. 

He pulled the shirt off entirely and ran a hand over the firm contours of Erik’s chest, feeling muscles tighten and flex under his fingers. Erik watched him blankly as he explored back and forth, letting his touch roam, more interested in learning Erik’s body than pleasure. He laid his hand flat for a moment against Erik’s chest and felt the distinct, solid thud of his heartbeat. When he leaned down to kiss a scar that curved up Erik’s shoulder, he felt the beat quicken and smiled. 

“Are you going—” Erik began, impatience in the edge of his tone. 

“Hush,” Charles murmured, his words muffled in the juncture between Erik’s shoulder and neck. “Just relax.” He shimmied down Erik’s body, trailing light fingers over the planes of Erik’s chest and stomach. When he brushed his nose through the light dusting of dark hair that started low on Erik’s abdomen and disappeared into his pants, Erik sucked in his breath in a sharp gasp, his hands gripped tight in the bed sheets. He was half-hard already, Charles could feel him through the thin fabric of his pants. He tugged at Erik’s waistband, and Erik lifted his hips obligingly. It took a fumbling moment to slide his pants down around his knees. His erection pressed prominently against his boxer shorts, and Charles huffed as he jerked at the material. “Too many layers,” he muttered. “Come on, off now.” 

Erik arched again so Charles could pull the boxer shorts off. He groaned when the fabric chafed against his cock as it slid free, and the sound shot a bolt of heat straight through Charles’s gut. Oh yes. That had been a good sound. He wanted to make Erik moan like that again, wanted to pull Erik apart so that he lost control of that mouth, lost all coherency. 

After taking a moment to admire the sight of Erik lying perfectly still against the dark background of the bedspread, he settled himself between Erik’s legs and tickled his fingers through the thin hair on his flat stomach. It was remarkable, how lean the man was. Charles could trace distinct muscles, outline their curves with his pointer finger, watch in fascination as Erik tensed and relaxed at his touch. He had never really taken the time to examine his lovers before. He was used to impersonal encounters, friendly smiles over a drink at the bar that culminated in nothing more than heady kisses and quick, clumsy orgasms. But Erik was spread out for him to touch, spread out and pliant for him to do as he liked. So he had no qualms about taking his time, enjoying the slow burn of arousal that lit deep in his stomach as he inhaled the musky scent of Erik’s skin. He wanted to fill his lungs with Erik and never breathe anything else again. God, the man was intoxicating. How he could have thought that Charles wasn’t attracted to him, Charles would never know. He was sure that all the affection and desire in the world was painted across his face every time he looked in Erik’s direction. 

He nuzzled down Erik’s stomach, skirted around his erect cock, as tempting as it was, and kissed a gentle line down his left leg. Erik shuddered underneath him, his breath coming hard and fast. Charles smiled and splayed a hand right on Erik’s hip, fingers curving around the bone and nearing Erik’s groin but not quite touching. When he looked up, Erik’s jaw was clenched painfully tight, and he was staring up at the ceiling, careful breaths blowing audibly from his half-open mouth. Still so composed, even now. Still determined to maintain control, if not over Charles, then over himself. The sight of him straining to keep perfectly still made Charles grin, but he wanted Erik to move. He wanted Erik to buck at him, to moan, to lose that precious self-control and to know what it meant to make love and to _like_ it. So he abandoned his kiss trail at Erik’s knee and climbed back up to touch Erik’s cock at last. 

The instant Charles’s hand closed around his shaft, Erik’s breath stuttered, and his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, _Gott_ , Charles…” 

Not quite a moan but close. Charles slid his grip all the way down to the base of his cock and then stroked slowly back up to the tip, thumbing the slit lightly. Erik was already wet, pre-cum leaking onto Charles’s finger as he brushed against the head of Erik’s erection. 

“God, you’re huge,” Charles said, half-admiringly, half-apprehensively. 

Erik blinked. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Charles laughed. Not a _problem_ at all. “I’m complimenting you, if you must know.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mm.” 

Charles stroked him again, long and slow, and Erik’s hips jerked. There it was. He tightened his grip and pulled, reveling in the way Erik’s head pushed back into the pillow in response, his breaths shortening into tiny gasps. 

“Look at me,” Charles said. 

“What—”

“Look at me. Please.” 

After a beat, Erik tilted his head down. His eyes were dark with desire, his pupils blown wide when they met Charles’s gaze. The heat there made Charles shudder, blood rushing south in a torrent of lust that left him nearly lightheaded. He was achingly hard, and Erik hadn’t even touched him yet. He hadn’t felt so desperately hungry in years. 

“Absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered fondly. _The things you do to me._

He hadn’t meant to project the last thought, but evidently, Erik heard it. The heat in his answering gaze nearly had Charles rutting up against him. Erik reached up and curled his fingers around the top button of Charles’s thin nightshirt. He stared at Charles expectantly, then frowned. 

“Are you in my mind?”

“No,” Charles answered truthfully. Keeping free of Erik’s thoughts was something very close to torture because he wanted to _see_ , damn it, he wanted to know exactly what Erik was feeling. But no, Erik’s mind was off-limits, painfully so, and he would respect that. He had to. 

But Erik looked up at him and said seriously, “If you want to, I want you to.” 

For a second, Charles could only stare. Then he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager, “Are you sure?”

Erik narrowed his eyes at him, a current of annoyance stretching between them like a thin thread. “Of course I am.” 

Charles grinned a bit giddily and touched his fingers to Erik’s temple. “Tell me if you want me out. You’ll tell me if you—”  
 _“Charles.”_

“All right, all right.” He slid in slowly, giving Erik ample time to change his mind if need be. But Erik only laid very still beneath him, wary and tense but silent as he stared Charles straight in the eye. His breath hitched when Charles said tentatively, _Is this all right?,_ curling an edge of warmth around the words. 

_Y…yes._

_Are you sure?_

_Get on with it, Charles,_ Erik replied with a snap of impatience. 

Charles huffed. _So demanding._ He palmed Erik’s cock for another long moment, awed at the bursts of light exploding behind Erik’s eyes. His mind was a hundred times more expressive than his face was, litanies of _ohGottCharlesohGott_ pulsing through every thought even as his mouth stayed pressed into a tight, unmoving line. The dichotomy was fascinating; he wanted to push and push until Erik let those thoughts loose, until his mouth said the things his mind did. 

He slid his hand up the shaft of Erik’s cock and released it at the tip. Erik shuddered at the loss of contact, but he didn’t speak. His eyes followed Charles’s movements as he leaned back, still straddling Erik’s hips but upright now. _What are you doing?_

 _You haven’t got a stitch of clothing on, and I’m still dressed._ He shot Erik a coy smile. _Unless you don’t want…?_

A surge of lust swept across Erik’s mind, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Can I…” He swallowed. “Will you let me do it?”

Charles dropped his hands. “Of course.” He scooted back so that Erik could sit up fully and then waited passively as Erik touched the hem of his shirt. He shivered as warm fingers ghosted along his belly, the calluses on Erik’s hand dragging against his soft skin. Erik hitched his shirt up past his chest, to his shoulders, and finally over his head. Charles shivered in the cool night air but stilled instantly when Erik touched his ribs with hesitant fingers. He had taken his time studying Erik earlier, and Erik appeared to be returning the scrutiny. His hands roamed across Charles’s shoulders, down his back, over his belly. Charles fought to keep still, though he wanted to rock forward, seeking friction for his hard, still-clothed cock. He hadn’t thought such innocent touches could arouse him like this, but there was something unbearably intimate in the way Erik was examining his body, as if Charles were some exquisite artwork to be savored. 

_Beautiful,_ Erik’s mind whispered. 

Charles flushed. _Not nearly as beautiful as you are._

 _No,_ Erik agreed. _More._ He pressed a tentative kiss to Charles’s shoulder and wiggled his hips. _Can I—pants?_

 _Oh yes._ Charles maneuvered them around until he was lying on his back by Erik’s side, giving Erik clear access to his body. The tent in his pants was already embarrassingly clear, and Erik brushed his hand against it. Charles couldn’t help the way his hips jerked at the contact, and Erik’s lips twitched up. He pulled Charles’s pants down, taking Charles’s underwear with it. They tangled around his knees, but Erik patiently slid them down and off, and then, finally, they were both naked. 

After a pause, Erik reached out and closed his hand around Charles’s erection. He mimicked how Charles had touched him earlier, and Charles groaned low in his throat. _You’re a fast learner._

Erik smirked. _I do try._ He stroked Charles faster, his thoughts bent on keeping the rhythm even. Charles forced himself to breathe evenly, fighting down the growing pleasure. It wouldn’t do for him to come now, not with what he wanted to do for Erik. But the rough slide of Erik’s palm against his straining cock was almost too much. For all of his inexperience, Erik was really very good at this, and he had Charles gasping within minutes, his hands clenched tightly in the bed sheets as he fought down his orgasm. 

“Stop, _stop.”_

Erik froze. “Did I do something wrong?”

Charles laughed breathlessly. “Not at all. I just don’t want to finish yet. There’s lotion in the bathroom. It’s crude, but we can use it to—to smooth the way. It’ll make it hurt less.” 

“Oh.” Erik’s eyes widened in realization. _“Oh._ All right.” He hurried off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. He was back within seconds, a bottle in hand. When he climbed back into bed, apprehension and a brief trace of fear flickered across his face. Then he offered the bottle to Charles and laid back, his legs spread. 

The rigid determination to endure was back in his eyes, and Charles shook his head. _Not tonight, Erik. I won’t ask that of you tonight._

Erik’s brow furrowed. _But…_

Charles slicked his fingers up with lotion and reached over to slather it on Erik’s cock. “I want you to fuck me,” he said, bending over to kiss Erik as he touched him. 

Erik started violently. “No, Charles— _no._ I can’t—” _won’t this is supposed to be for you you’re supposed to feel good not me_

“Hush,” Charles said, putting some of his weight onto Erik’s legs to keep him in place as Erik tried to squirm away. “This _will_ be good, for both of us.” 

“No, I don’t want to hurt you, Charles!” 

“Then don’t.” 

He tried for another kiss, but Erik twisted his head away, his expression darkening in anger. His thoughts took a moment to sort themselves out, and when they finally formed, they were still jumbled. _I can’t—you said—the—the top enjoys it—I want you to enjoy it—that’s the whole **point** —_

Charles frowned. _I never said that. You did. I’m going to show you otherwise._ He squirted some more lotion out onto his hand and reached between his legs to slip a finger into himself. Erik’s eyes went wide as he watched. Charles shut his eyes and hissed a quiet breath out through his teeth. It had been a while since he had done this, and he had never been with a man as big as Erik. But he knew his limits, and he knew that he would enjoy this, so long as they went slowly. 

Once he felt sufficiently prepared, he straddled Erik’s hips again and asked, a bit breathless, “Ready?”

Erik’s hands clenched on his thighs. “Charles…” His mind was full of misgivings. 

“Shh. It’ll be fine. Just promise me that if you ever feel uncomfortable, you’ll tell me to stop. All right?” 

“…All right.” 

“Good.” Charles took a breath and grasped Erik’s slicked cock to guide it between his legs. He felt the thick head rub up against his inner thigh, then slip into the cleft of his ass. Forcing himself to relax, he slid down, gritting his teeth as the tip of Erik’s cock pushed in. 

Erik let out a hoarse gasp. His hips lifted, pushing him further in, and Charles whimpered. Erik froze immediately, horror flashing across his face. “Charles? Did I—”

“I’m fine. Just—don’t move. Please. It’s been some time since I did this.” 

“Okay. Okay.” 

They both let out audible breaths, and Charles waited for the burn of the initial entrance to fade before sinking deeper. Erik’s breathing tightened, but he didn’t move. Charles could feel the muscles in Erik’s legs stiffen with his effort to keep still. He braced his hand against the flat plane of Erik’s stomach before lowering himself all the way, continuing until Erik’s entire length was buried inside him. Then he stopped, counting his breaths as he weathered through the painful stretch. 

Finally, he opened his eyes again and smiled down at Erik. “All right?”

 _“Gott,_ yes. It feels—so good. I don’t know if I can…” 

Charles smirked. “Don’t come yet. We’ve barely started.” He tugged Erik’s arm. “Come on, roll over.” 

They shifted until Charles was on his back, Erik hovering over him. Then Charles rolled his hips minutely, pushing Erik deeper, and Erik groaned low in his throat. He thrust once, twice, and then stopped. “I’m sorry—I can’t help it—I need—”

_It’s fine, it’s good. You’re doing well. Keep going._

Erik gave another uncertain thrust. _Are you sure? Am I hurting you?_

 _No, you’re not._ And it was the truth. The pain had dimmed into sharp pleasure, and Charles opened his mind to Erik’s, letting the feeling filter between them. _Do you feel that?_

Erik pulled out slightly and pushed back in. Pleasure flared through both of them, and they groaned together. Erik started a rhythm, hesitant at first, then gaining confidence and speed as he felt what Charles did. Then Charles began to thrust back up against him, and the resulting friction made Erik moan aloud, and Charles reared up to trap that sound in a kiss. It was glorious, the way Erik’s control crumbled like so much sand in the wind. The beautiful unrestrained chaos of his mind was a sight to behold, and Charles lost himself in it, lost himself in the slick press of their bodies and the heated press of their minds. Erik drove them faster, his thoughts stuttering into disjointed pleasure as he neared the end, the sensations too new and too overwhelming for him to last long. Charles wove their minds close, sharing what he felt, giving Erik back just as much as he took. Erik was bent nearly in half, panting harshly into Charles’s neck, and the friction was too much. Charles felt the moment Erik came apart, almost sobbing with pleasure into Charles’s skin, and the ecstasy rebounded from Erik’s mind to Charles’s. Charles fell over the edge with a shout, pulsing hot over their stomachs. 

For a very long few minutes, they lay there in silence, recovering their breaths. Then Erik sat up, pulling halfway out as he did, and Charles winced. Their minds were still connected enough for Erik to feel the twinge of pain, and he halted. _“Gott,_ Charles, I hurt you—”

“No, you didn’t. Just try to pull out slowly, please. Doing it too quickly will hurt me.” 

“O—oh.” Erik eased out inch by inch, watching Charles’s expression for flickers of pain as he did. When he was out, he collapsed into the bed sheets beside Charles, his chest heaving. “That was…” 

Charles turned and caressed his cheek. “Did you see?” _How this could be good for the both of us? No one has to give or take, Erik. Only share._

Erik swallowed. _Yes. I saw._

_Good._

They laid there for another silence. Erik turned his face toward Charles’s hand, his lips nudging Charles’s palm. There was nothing but sated warmth between them, and Charles was sure he would never need anything else. 

Finally, Erik sat up and reached for his shirt. Charles eyed him. “Where are you going?”

Erik blinked. “Back to my room.” 

“Why? Stay.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” 

After a beat of hesitation, Erik allowed Charles to pull him back down and draw the covers over their bodies. He knew they should get up to clean themselves off, but for the moment, all he wanted was to curl into Erik’s warmth. 

“You know,” he said after a moment, “what you did last night—don’t ever do that again. Please.” 

Erik frowned. “What?”

“You forced yourself into doing something you didn’t want to do, because you thought I would like it. Don’t ever do that again. No one is worth that.” 

Erik was silent for a long moment. Then he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of Charles’s jaw, his lips soft against the raised stubble. “Sometimes,” he said quietly, “I think you are.”


End file.
